


Responsible

by Chelidona (Hobbity)



Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Domestic Violence, Happy Ending, M/M, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 01:58:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9470375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hobbity/pseuds/Chelidona
Summary: Fill for prompt 43 from the WinterFRE: "A young social worker is about to make a tough decision as a vulnerable family is on the verge of eviction from their home. The oldest ‘kid’ is about his age and takes care of his siblings alone since their parents have gone awol. Mutual attraction makes things more difficult."Mitchell is a social worker; one of his first cases involves the Johnson family. The parents have shot through, the oldest son is in jail and Anders Johnson is only 19, but tries to keep his brothers.





	1. A difficult case

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I obviously didn't have much time to research this. I've drawn mostly from my own tangential experiences with welfare offices in Switzerland, so this is mostly based on Swiss laws and procedures, although it is not even very accurate there.  
> I also don't have direct experiences with child abuse nor had much time for research, again, this is mainly based on observations I made in a few other families where abuse happened. I hope it is not too inaccurate.  
> There are no graphic descriptions of abuse, but it is mentioned.

Mitchell felt jittery when he parked his car in a surprisingly nice neighbourhood. This was his first house call as a social worker and the Johnsons looked like they were going to be a hard case, the first where he had to work with the youth welfare office. He had taken over the case from Josie, a kind middle-aged woman who had acted as his tutor when he first started working for social services a few months back. Unfortunately, she had a serious heart disease and was on leave. So he had inherited the case.

He could spot the Johnsons' house easily. In a street of immaculate front gardens and pristine houses, the Johnson’s front garden with piles of dead leaves and walls riddled with cracked paint stood out like a sore thumb.

He used the car’s rearview mirror to adjust his hair. Herrick, head of their local office, always scolded him for not looking professional enough. Mitchell preferred to keep his hair at shoulder length, he hated going to the hairdresser, and he preferred t-shirts and jeans. Granted, he also hated washing his hair, but now he mostly washed it three times a week, so there was no reason to complain about his hair.

Sometimes he also complied with the man’s idea of professionalism and put on a “proper” shirt and jacket, but for this visit he decided that his usual look would win him more favours. The Johnsons were very young and not likely to trust Mitchell if he came to their house already uncomfortable in unfamiliar clothes. For this visit he had chosen a yellow t-shirt and a blue hoodie; why anyone would wear a jacket in November when they could wear a hoodie with a hood that afforded shelter from the harsh wind if necessary, he never understood.

Mitchell took a deep breath when he noticed his mind was side tracking. He could do this.

He was well instructed, he had studied for this, he was prepared. And it was just a preliminary, “get to know you” house call. He would make a report, but it didn’t need to be thorough or anything. Just meeting the Johnsons in their natural habitat. Still. He pulled out his tablet to scan through the notes on the family one last time.

 

The situation looked bad. Johan Johnson, the father, had been absent for 2 years. No foul play seemed to be involved and he had apparently gone away without contacting his family for long stretches before. The man was a ship engineer; he had always been away for months at a time working on a ship that crossed the oceans. According to his family, he sometimes just didn’t show up after an assignment was finished and resurfaced months or even years after he was expected back; they didn’t even know his last employer’s name. As long as they couldn’t find him, they couldn’t make him pay any money to support his family. Something Herrick was very, very unhappy about.

 

Elizabeth Johnson, the mother, had told her oldest son, Mikkel, on his 21st birthday that he was a man now and could take care of his brothers. She left the house and never returned. It was discovered, after she disappeared, that she had been made redundant two months earlier but hadn’t told her children; there was the suspicion that she had severe depression and police didn’t rule out suicide, although no body had been found so far.

After her disappearance, the youth welfare office had become involved for the first time. While there was still a chance that Elizabeth might come back, they had awarded Mikkel Johnson temporary custody over his two underage brothers. Before they were finished looking into the financial situation of the family, Mikkel had been arrested on suspicion of having assaulted his best friend. It was unclear what exactly had happened, he had been found crouched over the unconscious body and the other man had been in a coma ever since then.

Despite denying all charges, he was in detention, awaiting trial.

There was no way the family could afford bail, and after the police arrested him he had lost his job at a construction company anyway. That had been four months ago.

The burden of caring for his family had fallen to the second Johnson brother, Anders. From what Mitchell could learn from the files, he was a bright young man who had been offered a scholarship at university. He had taken it, despite the case worker’s comment that he should rather look for a job. Mitchell knew Josie. She was a kind woman and had only suggested that to the boy because Herrick had obliged her to. Anders Johnson, Josie had written down in the report, was well aware of his rights to continue his education.

Anders was also less proud than his brother Mikkel and had applied for benefits for his brothers (as a student he was not entitled of course). In response, Herrick had tried to bully him into looking for a full time job. Even before he had met Anders Johnson, Mitchell had some respect for him. Not every 19 year old was strong enough to withstand Herrick’s bullying. The man had harassed Anders with letters, compulsory appointments that were totally pointless and even sent him registered letters informing him that his brothers would not be entitled to benefits if Anders did not prove his efforts to find a full time job.

That was total bullshit and went against several laws at once; at the moment Anders Johnson was not even legally required to provide for his brothers and his scholarship covered most of his own costs of living. The young man had informed Herrick of that, threatening to sue him for harassment. Benefits for the Johnson brothers came through after that.

At the moment, Anders Johnson was working part time at a supermarket and studying public relations and business administration part time. It would be part of Mitchell’s job to find out who looked after the youngest, Tyrone and Axl, while he was away. With Josie, the previous case worker, gone, he was put down as temporary legal guardian to the younger kids. Anders Johnson had filed for custody over his two young brothers a month after his brother had been arrested; Mikkel’s application, filed shortly after Elizabeth disappeared, was hopeless now.

Tyrone was having trouble in school, the report said. He didn’t follow rules, usually arrived late and refused to participate in most group activities. Axl struggled in school as well; while his teachers described him as an easy going young child, he was behind his classmates in every subject and often failed to do his homework. It was only November, but it already looked like Axl had to repeat the school year.

More pressing was the eviction the family faced. The bank was foreclosing the house; Elizabeth had already been falling behind and no further mortgage payments had been made since Elizabeth was gone. Mikkel’s job simply didn’t pay enough money to pay off the mortgage to the big house his father had bought and of course once his income was gone, Anders Johnson had no hope of meeting the demands.

As Mitchell’s predecessor on the case, Josie had managed to get the bank to agree to give the family six month to find a new place.

That had been two months ago and now of course, Josie was on leave of absence due to illness. There were only four months left to find a new home or, as Josie had written, placing the younger children in foster care. Anders Johnson would be able to afford a room on his own. Of course, there was always emergency housing to keep the family together, but it might reasonably be asked if a 19 year old could care for a teenager and a child.

Nobody liked ripping a family apart like that. Apart from perhaps Herrick, who was known to prefer the “simple, non-sentimental” solutions.

Mitchell closed the file on his tablet and stowed it in his messenger back. Time to meet the family.

 

He quickly assessed the state the house was in on his walk to the front door. While there were clean sights of neglect, he could see no direct dangers to a small child and while nobody had bothered to clean away the leaves or the rubbish people had thrown over the fence, the path to the door was clean. Before he could ring the front bell, he heard somebody yell:

“You can’t smoke pot now, you bastard, the social worker’ll be here any moment.”

He couldn’t hear the reply, but the person who shouted, said angrily and at only a slightly lower volume.

“I’m not going to chill and you are not, under any circumstances, offering the man pot! Put it away now!”

Apparently whoever it was did as he was told, because no words could be heard after that.

Mitchell frowned, but waited a bit before he pressed the bell. A moment later, a young boy opened the door, his big round face suspicious when he looked up.

If that was little Axl he was very tall for a nine year old. Still, the child looked healthy if maybe a bit overweight. After he scrutinised Mitchell, eyeing the fingerless gloves with suspicion, the child finally spoke up.

“Who are you?”

“My name is John Mitchell, I’m your new social worker. May I come in?”

Axl turned around and shouted. “Can a John Mitchell come in, Anders?”

“Christ, Axl, that’s why I sent you to the door!” A young man emerged behind the child. It was him who had yelled about pot. “Go and bother Olaf.”

Axl stuck his tongue out and disappeared. Meanwhile, Anders held out his hand to Mitchell.

“I’m Anders. Sorry about Axl, he isn’t used to strangers.”

Mitchell shook his hand and stepped inside when Anders moved to the side. The hallway looked clean and tidy, but he knew that didn’t need to mean much. There was distinct smell of mould hanging in the air, along with bleach.

Two lonely children’s paintings decorated the walls, apparently done by Axl; light spots on the walls told him that somebody had taken down pictures not too long ago.

“No need to take off your shoes,” Anders said when Mitchell bent down to do so. “Would you like some tea?”

He smiled at Mitchell. Deep dimples appeared, but his shoulders were tense. Mitchell smiled again to try and set him at ease.

“Sure, that’d be lovely.”

He followed Anders in the kitchen.

 

The bananas in the fruit tray were brown and at least one of the apples rotten. A motley array of chocolate and biscuit wrappers filled the bin and it neither looked nor smelled as if any cooking was done here. 

Anders switched an ancient kettle on and pulled some teabags from a box.

“Would you like a biscuit along with the tea?”

“Sure.”

It gave him a subtle opportunity to see what was in the cupboard. The one Anders opened contained three packages of cheap biscuits, several bars of cheap chocolate and a can of baked beans. When Anders opened the fridge to get out the milk, he didn’t see any vegetables, just milk, juice, soda, bacon and cheese.

Anders noticed his look and frowned.

“We’ve only started to receive benefits a month ago,” he defended himself, quickly closing the fridge. “I’m still paying back people who advanced us money before; now we just buy whatever the charity shop has. It’s not the healthy shit.”

“I think it’s great that you registered with them,” Mitchell offered.

He knew that shop, he often had to practically force people to go there, it went against their pride to provide proof of their financial circumstances to an association dedicated to helping them. The shop was dependent on the food donated to them, of course, and as Anders’ had observed it usually wasn’t the best.

A small sardonic smile played around Anders mouth and his posture relaxed a bit.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, ey? Still, Axl gets free lunch during the week at daycare, so he’s a lucky little bugger. Me and Ty get cheap lunch at the cafeteria, of course. Does that satisfy your curiosity regarding our nutrition?”

Mitchell tried to smile disarmingly and Anders relaxed even further. Still, Mitchell had one more question to ask.

“So who’s Olaf.”

He really hoped that was the one Anders had been shouting at about pot and not Tyrone. Anders looked up from his task of arranging biscuits on a plate. His smile was tight.

“You’re going to meet him in a minute, he’s our cousin. He’s looking after Axl when I’m away.”

“Doesn’t he have a job?”

Anders shrugged. “He owns a little shop with outdoor sport shit. It’s not like it’s overrun with customers in winter. He can usually make time. And if he can’t, there’s Dawn. One of my friends from school, she likes to come around to look after Axl. Sometimes he can stay at Zeb’s place. Zeb’s his best friend, his mum usually picks Axl up from daycare.” He shrugged, a small triumphant smile playing around his mouth. “You see, I’ve got this covered.”

“And what about Tyrone?”

Anders threw a quick look to the door and lowered his voice.

“Look, I’m not stupid or anything. I know that Ty’s too young to take over responsibility for Axl. But he’s fifteen, he can stay home alone for a couple of hours. In fact, he prefers it. And I’m around most of the time after school anyway. You can write that right down.”

“I’ll make a note.” Mitchell tried to smile and appear non-threatening.

Anders poured the water from the kettle into a pot and threw a few tea bags into it. Then he put it on tray, along with a small plate of biscuits.

“All right then.”

 

The living room was occupied by a giant bald man, who was lounging comfortably on a couch; there was a faint whiff of pot hanging in the room. Axl was sitting next to him, pulling stuffing from a whole in the threadbare fabric; both were watching a cartoon on a cracked TV. The room itself wasn’t too bad; Mitchell had seen worse. It had evidently been cleaned for his visit, it was suspiciously tidy for a room in a house with a nine year old and a teenager.

Before Mitchell had time to take much more in, the man on the couch waved lazily. “Hi there. I’m Olaf.”

“Pleasure to meet you.”

Anders looked around, then he sighed, putting his the tray on the table. “Sit down, I’ll get Ty. Axl, switch off the TV.”

Axl did as he was told, but not without glaring in Anders’ direction.

“Let the boy be a teenager,” Olaf said pleasantly. “They like being holed up in their room. Sit down, John.”

“Teenagers can show some manners,” Anders grumbled and stomped out. Mitchell followed Olaf’s invitation.

“TY!” he heard Anders yell. “Come on down and meet Mr. Mitchell.”

“Fuck you!” Ty yelled back.

“Fuck you too!” Then Anders seemed to remember his audience and craned his neck to look back into the living room and smile tersely at Mitchell. “Hang on.”

 

They heard him walk up the stairs. Shortly afterwards Anders came back in, followed by a boy who seemed to be in the middle of what could only be called an unfortunate goth phase. He was wearing smudged eyeliner and mascara, his face was sickly pale which was only accentuated by the threadbare black hoodie he wore. A sullen expression completed the look.

“Sorry,” Ty mumbled, not quite meeting Mitchell’s eyes. “I’m Ty. I was just playing a game … I don’t like being interrupted.”

“Then I am very sorry,” Mitchell said, smiling again. He did that too often, the Johnsons must think a maniac had taken over their case. “What did you play?”

“Um … Naruto.”

Axl looked up from inspecting the plate of biscuits. “I thought you wanted to play Assassin’s Creed?”

“Don’t be stupid, I’m not 18 yet. That’s Anders’ game.”

“But …”

“Mr. Mitchell, would you like milk in your tea?” Anders interrupted his brothers quickly.

“I want milk!” Axl put in.

Meanwhile, the child had polished away all chocolate biscuits Mitchell noticed when he wanted to help himself.

“So ….” Mitchell began, once everyone had taken a seat. Axl was snuggling into Olaf’s side, Anders hadn’t given him any tea yet because it was too hot. Ty sat next to his little brother on the couch, while Mitchell and Anders had taken the chairs. “I am really just here to get to know you … as you know, I have been assigned to temporarily take over as legal guardian ….”

“We’ve got Anders!” Axl interrupted him, doing his best to level him with a glare. He wasn’t really successful.

“I know,” Mitchell soothed him.

“And Mike’s gonna come back,” Tyrone added, his arms crossed. “He didn’t do it. We’re fine.”

“As you know, it is not ….”

Mitchell didn’t get any further before Tyrone interrupted him. “All we need is a new place. We don’t fucking need you.”

Anders glared at his younger brother. “Alright Ty, grab your tea and go back to your game if you can’t mind your f … fudging manners.”

Ty shrugged and got up, skulking out of the room.

“He’s right though,” Olaf observed, sinking deeper into the couch, the only one in the room perfectly at ease. Mitchell noted though, that Olaf’s name had never come up in the files he read. As an older cousin who was apparently involved in the children’s life, he could easily have applied to become the children’s legal guardian.

“Well, it is the most pressing problem,” Anders admitted, looking at Mitchell. “We’ve only got four months left. I’ve been looking at plenty of flats, and Olaf and Dawn help me too, but it seems hopeless. As soon as I show up, they either ask me where the other students are that I’m going to share with or that they don’t rent to students. And in either case, once I tell them I need the flat for me and my two kid brothers, it’s over. I mean, a couple asked about papers about me having custody and all that but …” he shrugged. “You see, before I’ve got custody, it’s completely pointless. I don’t blame them either - if mum reappears, she can take Ty and Axl and get the benefits for them, and I won’t be able to afford the flat anymore. Or my brothers might be taken away from me and again, no benefits, not enough money to afford a flat on my own. I’m a bad risk as a tenant.”

Mitchell nodded, impressed by Anders’ good grasp on his situation. Of course Elizabeth wouldn’t just be given the kids when she reappeared, but that was a side issue.

“I’ve already started to look at emergency housing,” he explained. “Hopefully, it won’t be necessary, but I will make sure that you will have a place to go to in four months time.”

He looked around. Old and threadbare as everything was, there seemed to be a lot of stuff. “It will obviously be a much smaller space. You might want to start preparing for that.”

Anders looked to Olaf, who shrugged. “I’ll come by with the pick up one of these days. We can chuck most of it.” He ruffled Axl’s hair. “The little one has too many toys anyway.”

“Do not!” Axl protested.

“Yes you do,” Anders said, “you don’t play with most of it too and we all need to get rid of stuff.”

“Like your pictures of naked people?”

Anders flushed. “AXL!”

“What??? Mum said ….”

“He never saw them,” Anders hastened to assure Mitchell. “I swear.”

“Did too!”

“…. apart from a couple of posters from playboy I put up in my room a couple of years ago,” Anders amended. “I was 16 and as stupid as Ty. Axl, didn’t you want to go and play with Zeb?”

“Zeb’s away,” Axl informed him smugly.

“Pity.” Anders rubbed his face. “Well, in that case, why don’t you show Mr. Mitchell your homework? And your homework journal?”

He turned to Mitchell again. “He’s getting better with his homework.”

The rest of the stay Mitchell looked at the journal which indeed proved that Axl was now doing his homework at least 60% of the time and there were a few notes by the teacher lauding his improvement. And then Axl, who didn’t seem to be a naturally belligerent child, roped him into explaining math, a subject Mitchell had always hated.

***

Anders came to his office two days later, for a first official interview. Mitchell had been diligent in his preparation. Most of his other clients didn’t require this much work; one was an alcoholic whom nobody but Herrick believed to be ever capable of reentering the workforce. Mitchell counted himself lucky if the man only threatened to kill him once during their monthly required chats. Another was a mother whose children had been taken away from her months before Mitchell came in; she always tried to persuade him into putting a good word in for her, despite Mitchell’s explanation that as long as she lived with a convicted pedophile, her chances were zero. One time she put in a complaint about him, when he lost his temper.

The others were people who were jobless; some were evidently just too lazy, but most were actually eager to find work and Mitchell regretted that he couldn’t do much more than give them pep talks and send them to useless job trainings.

 

None of them, however, required as much preparation as the Johnsons.

Anders walked into his office with the self-confident strut of a very insecure teenager. Mitchell held on to that thought as he mentally assessed Anders’ very fine form, definitely that of an adult, and that handsome, handsome face and the perfectly rounded ears. They were almost supernatural in their perfection. He idly wondered how many people would fixate on the ears of their clients of all things, while he shook Anders hand as professionally as he could.

Anders attempted to sit cross legged and relaxed and nearly fell out of the chair. Mitchell tactfully rifled through his papers. while Anders straightened himself.

“Mr. Johnson ….”

“Can you please call me Anders?” the young man interrupted. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Johnson … that reminds me of my dad.”

And that was a good cue. It was not strictly professional to be on first name basis, but it was a good lead into an important topic.

“Certainly. Anders then. You can call me Mitchell.”

He nearly winced at his own lack of professionalism.

“And while we’re on the topic ….what efforts have you made to find your father?”

This was something Herrick kept sending him memos about. Why, Herrick asked, was the state paying benefits to the Johnsons when it hadn’t been sufficiently established, that their father was unable to do so?

It took Anders a moment to answer.

“Efforts to find my father?”

“Yes … I am sure after your mother disappeared, you and Mikkel must have ….”

“Fuck no!” Anders exclaimed, glaring him. “Why the fuck would we try and find that abusive bastard?”

“Abusive?”

Mitchell quickly skimmed through the file on Johan Johnson, that was opened on his computer. It didn’t say anything about abusive, beyond the obvious neglect considering the man habitually went away without contacting his family for long periods of time. All that had ever been indicated was that he was a free spirit and didn’t like to be tied down by family.

Anders flushed. Then he shrugged.

“Mikkel and mum didn’t want anyone to know.”

Mitchell looked from his file to Anders. “Look, I’ll need you to tell me more about this. Technically, he still has custody, although that is easily challenged considering he’s not been in contact for years.”

Anders glared at him. “So what’s the point to this? Why are we talking about him?”

“We need to establish a clear state of affairs in your family. At the moment, neither of your parents are declared death, but they are absent.”

He tried to ignore the flicker of pain on Anders’ face. He didn’t enjoy this, but he couldn’t help Anders if he spared the young man’s feelings.

“You have filed for custody, so you know all of that. The youth welfare office will make a decision soon.”

“I’m not abusive,” Anders pointed out, clenching his fists. “I may only be four years older than Ty, but ….”

“That’s not what I meant,” Mitchell interrupted him quickly. “But if your father is abusive, it is not sufficient to take custody away from him, I’d also like to get a restraining order for him. Your brothers are minors, they cannot apply for that themselves. As their current legal guardian, I’d like to do so, but I need your statements for that. It might also factor into the decisions regarding your application for custody; both Tyrone and Axl are struggling in school and it is not in your best interest to let people believe it is due to neglect on your part.”

Anders took a deep breath.

“He was just …. abusive, all right? Not sexually I mean, although I guess he raped mum. But not us. He used to hit mum all the time, didn’t even wait until he was drunk as an excuse. Just her being in the same room as him could set him off. Mikkel and me too. He hates our guts. But we didn’t let him touch Ty and he loves Axl, he never laid a finger on him. I …. Look, he shot through.”

“I see.” Mitchell made a note of what Anders said, while the young man watched him like a hawk.

“So you see why we don’t want him back?”

“Yes, of course. However, he is under legal obligation to provide for you all financially, so we’d very much like to find him.”

Anders laughed. “Dad? Provide for us financially? Forget about that. He always made sure to be employed by a foreign company, so government couldn’t force his employer to send part of his salary to mum to provide for us. I heard him tell mum himself. The only way she’d get any money out of him was by putting up with him. The bastard is somewhere on a tropical island now, bothering the local women and bragging to his mates about evading child support.”

Mitchell made a note. He still needed to try and find the man, but short of getting an international warrant, it seemed unlikely to happen.

 

The rest of the conversation concerned more legal details. Mitchell had to organize a voucher for Anders for another free session with a lawyer, to work on his application for custody over his brothers. And they needed to go over some details regarding Anders’ job and benefits again. Anders was not exactly an easy client; he was clearly suspicious and he was hiding behind a wall of superiority. But Mitchell found himself drawn in by those blue eyes, by the wit and the love hiding behind the prickly exterior.

This was a young student trying to take responsibility for a family, when others at his age were mainly concerned with partying.

 

He wrote in the report that the brothers had tried to ask around for their father, but hadn’t known where to start. It was a blatant lie, but knowing Herrick, he’d start to harass Anders about not having done enough to secure child support from their father otherwise.

***

Mitchell arranged for a child psychologist to interview little Axl, passing on the information Anders had given him about potential abuse in the family.

 

The woman’s email was angry when she got back to him. It had turned out that the child had been drawing pictures of his father hitting his mother and brothers for years; one picture that she attached to the mail showed his father, with a red angry face, standing over a figure with blond hair, which must be Anders. Below the head of the figure was a small circle of red. Blood, presumably. Another picture showed a surprisingly good rendition of a belt in the hand of a big man, hitting a smaller person. It was difficult to say who it was. The figure was too big too be Axl.

 

Both of these pictures were 2 years old, created shortly before his father left. Axl had been 7.

It seemed that Anders was right, Axl himself hadn’t been abused but he’d witnessed his father’s violence against the rest of the family. 

 

Verbal abuse, the report went on, seemed to be common in the family. She suggested that Anders (who also received a copy of the report, as temporary guardian) should work on positive reinforcement to help his brother with his struggles in school.

The psychologist suggested that Axl needed therapy; luckily the application for that went through different channels, Mitchell wouldn’t have liked to go against Herrick for that one. It would be difficult enough to get Herrick to cough up the money for another interview with Axl, at a later date, where the child might be able to supply more details about his home life.

 

Mitchell arranged an interview with the teacher, who turned out to be very timid. Yes, she said quietly, Axl had told her he was glad his father was gone. He called him “the bad man.” He had told his teacher that Johan had shoved Anders down the stairs at least once and once, when it was subzero outside, he told her in the morning that his father had make Mikkel sleep on the porch. It was two years ago, but she remembered.

 

No, she said, her eyes big and round, she hadn’t thought about reporting it. She didn’t have proof, did she? And Mikkel had been an adult then? Anyway, when Mr. Johnson was gone away she thought the matter was over.

 

Yes, Axl’s mother may have told him that she hadn’t wanted him, that it was too stressful for her to take care of a fourth child, but still, his mother had loved him, right? Every mother was overwhelmed sometimes, she saw that all the time as a teacher, she couldn’t go reporting every mother who had a bit of a meltdown. Of course she was a bit worried about the poor child after his mother had run away too. It was so sad when his brother had been arrested, Axl had completely stopped to participate for a few weeks, but he seemed to be back to his usual self now.

 

He had a talk with the headmaster of the school too, who assured him that he would talk to his teachers again about their moral duty to report abuse. He was very apologetic about Axl’s teachers, but he said, Mr. Mitchell had to understand, it had been difficult to communicate with the family. Young Anders was very abrasive and Mikkel had a bad temper. The underlying current of “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree” was all too noticeable; headmaster and teacher were inclined to give up on Axl because of his family.

 

The report from Tyrone’s school was similar. While the content was neutral, the constant references to the “domestic situation” and “troubles with his brothers” said very clearly that Tyrone’s teacher considered him to be hopeless. It was not hard to see why Tyrone lacked motivation to do better.

 

Mitchell had already composed an angry reply highlighting that Mikkel Johnson had no previous convictions and was not, in fact, convicted yet. Innocent until proven guilty was still a thing. And Anders Johnson was actually doing his very best to improve his own situation, having fought Herrick for his right to study when Josie was too ill to do it for him and willing to look after his brothers. He was still extremely impressed by that. And when benefits didn’t come because Herrick stalled, he begged for help from Olaf and his friend Dawn.

 

But he deleted the email again. Professionalism, he reminded himself. He needed to remain professional, he didn’t want to invite complaints against himself.

He ranted about insensitive teachers all evening at home, until Annie and George told him to stop.

***

Tyrone had missed the first appointment Mitchell had made with him. In a tedious exchange of emails, in which Mitchell kept a tight rein on his temper and Ty didn’t, Ty eventually conceded that he would come in the company of Anders.

That actually boded well; everything Mitchell had on record so far was that Ty couldn’t stand his older brother. Demanding to have Anders by his side wasn’t a bad sign.

 

Ty looked sullen when he was brought in by Anders. The young man looked angry with his younger brother, but greeted Mitchell affably enough. Contrary to Ty.

“As Olaf says,” Anders said by way of an apology, “he’s a teenager. He’ll grow out of it.”

“Bastard,” Ty grumbled, sitting down and glaring at Mitchell. The effect was diminished by his panda bear eyes.

“Thank you for coming, Tyrone,” Mitchell began, hoping that formality would help to establish a productive talk. “We’ve already talked to your brothers, as you know, but it is important to have your statement and opinion on record too.”

“I want to stay with Anders until Mikkel is released. He’s a bastard, but not too bad. End of statement.”

“Thank you for the ringing endorsement.” Anders elbowed his brother. “Ty, we talked about this, come on. The nice man needs your statements about dad and he needs to know why I am not too bad. Go on.”

Ty sank deeper into his hoodie, but was looking at Mitchell.

“Why are you digging into that now? Anders and Olaf don’t hit us, Anders brings home food, there’s no reason to take Axl and me away from them!! It was just dad and Mikkel!”

“Mikkel?” That was a new one.

“Mikkel didn’t ….” Anders started but Mitchell lifted a hand.

“I need Tyrone’s statement, I’m sorry.”

Ty flushed.

“I didn’t mean that Mikkel is like dad, or anything. He hits Anders when they fight, and me, sometimes, when I spoke up against him or came home late or anything . I mean … he never hit Axl. Ever.”

Mitchell made a note; while he was still writing, Anders spoke up.

“If I may speak now? Mike’s only three years older than me, you can’t call it abuse when he hits me … we’re brothers, we’ve been fighting like that since I crawled out of the womb! I hit him right back!”

He didn’t seem to understand that it wasn’t exactly normal for brothers to still fight violently at their age, Mitchell noted mentally, but didn’t interrupt.

“See, I can’t stand Mikkel, he’s a self-righteous macho with a giant stick up his arse, but that doesn’t mean he’s abusive. Yeah, he was overwhelmed when mum shot through as well, we all were, and he didn’t know how to deal when Ty stirred up trouble, but those were just a few slaps, nothing that really hurt Ty.”

Ty nodded. “Mike isn’t bad,” he insisted. “He’s not like dad.”

“So, what about your father?”

Tyrone looked at Anders first.

“Dad … dad hated Mikkel and Anders. He threw Anders downstairs a few times, you know …” He looked at Anders, who continued for him, a bit more open than last time.

“When I came home too late for example, he’d wait until I made it upstairs and then he came out of the bedroom and pushed me down again. Or when he saw me upstairs and I had done something to upset him. Like exist. He did it with Mikkel too, but Mikkel was always stronger than me, he couldn’t just be pushed. From the time Mikkel was Ty’s age, they just used to beat each other up. Dad didn’t always win.”

“I just used to hide from him.” Ty seemed to gain some confidence now. “He didn’t manage to catch me much … and if he did, Anders or Mikkel jumped in.”

He lifted his shoulders. “Once Dad was thrashing me in the kitchen. Anders came in, and he took a knife, telling dad that if he ever laid a finger on me again, or on Axl, he’d kill him.”

Mitchell made a note, including Anders immediate protest that he never would have killed their dad. Something in his eyes told him Anders was lying; he would have killed their father without batting an eyelash. 

Mitchell was only relieved it had never come to that.

“And did he hit you again?”

“No. That was just a couple of days before he left.” Ty grinned suddenly and looked much younger. “I guess he was afraid of Anders.”

Anders would only have been 17.

“I see.”

“And good riddance. As I said, Anders’s a bossy, selfish bastard, but he’s okay. Axl and me just want to stay with him and Mikkel, okay? Mikkel didn’t assault his friend, he never would. He’s not dad.”

 

It didn’t need any professional training, to see that Johan Johnson’s violence was worse than the boys let on. Whether they were reluctant to talk about it or whether it had just become such a normal part of their childhood was difficult to say, but it seemed that it was luck that nobody had ever come to harm.

 

Mitchell had seen the staircase in the Johnson’s home; it was steep and the wooden railing flimsy. Anders could easily have been killed. However, Mitchell didn’t feel that he needed to pry more; he was not a psychologist and for the purpose of his report, he had more than enough.

 

He talked to Ty and Anders about Ty’s attitude to school, without much results. Anders called his brother an idiot for throwing away his education, Ty said that Anders should stop bossing him around. Mitchell suggested that if Ty wanted to stay with Anders, he might have to improve his attitude, child support services would certainly look at the reports from his school too.

 

Of course, the result of Mitchell’s admonition was Ty shutting down completely, refusing to talk to either Mitchell or Anders. One had to admire a teenager’s ability to sulk. He sent them on their way, trying not to think about the way Anders’ eyes twinkled and how nice Anders’ bottom looked in his slacks when he strutted out (what 19 year old wore slacks?). No checking out client’s bums. That was rule number one.

***

Two nights later, Mitchell was at the pub with George and Annie. He had been screamed at for forty minutes that afternoon by a drunk woman who demanded a raise in her benefits to buy more alcohol. A pint or three, though perhaps ironic, were highly deserved.

He was walking up to the bar to get a third round, when a familiar voice accosted him.

“Mitchell.”

He turned around.

“Anders. Hi!”

Anders looked drunk already; he was flushed and his eyes were slightly unfocused as he stared at Mitchell’s face.

“I …. can I talk to you for a second?”

Mitchell looked from the bar to his friends. “Look, I’m not at work and …”

“Please. It’s important.”

“All right.” He sighed. It wasn’t like he could relax now anyway. “Let me get the drinks for my friends, then we can talk.”

They both got their jackets and went outside, where it was less noisy. It was cold, but dry and the stars were shining. A beautiful evening actually.

Anders was already slightly wobbling.

“What is it?” Mitchell asked, when Anders seemed content to just stare at him dreamily.

“You’re really handsome,” Anders told him. “Should social workers be so handsome? Isn’t that sort of unfair?”

Despite himself, Mitchell chuckled. “Thank you. Did you need to talk to me about my handsome face?”

“Not only your face,” Anders informed him. “The rest of you is good too. And you shouldn’t make house calls in skinny jeans. Not good.”

“You,” Mitchell told him, “had too much to drink and I suspect you went into your cousin’s stash of pot too.”

“No.” Anders shifted slightly on his feet. Not convincing. Mitchell rubbed his face. There was a reason one didn’t interact with clients outside of work. It was too late now, he felt responsible for the situation.

“How about that: You let me take you home and I won’t make a note of this.”

Anders’ took a step backward. “I can walk home alone, there’s no need …”

But he nearly fell backwards and Mitchell caught him by the small of his back.

“Let’s go say goodbye to our friends.”

“’m here alone.”

Splendid.

 

He didn’t tell George and Annie that Anders was a client, just that he needed to bring a young man home. There raised eyebrows and George’s suggestive whistle when he spotted Anders, didn’t help.

 

Anders sulked when they were outside again, but after a few minutes, the walk seemed to have cleared his head sufficiently.

“I wanted to tell you that Olaf was busted today for his possession of weed.” He paused. “They came to his shop. He says all the found was for personal use, but apparently it’s so much, they suspect him of dealing in his shop. So he’s still in custody. That … that’s going to look really bad right? I just … I wanted to tell you first. I didn’t want you to think … I knew Olaf smokes pot, but … if he was actually dealing, I didn’t know about it, I swear.”

He looked utterly unhappy. “I guess I should never have taken Olaf’s offer to look after the kids. I just …”

“You’re too young for this.”

Mitchell had meant that as a soothing comment, but Anders stopped and turned to face Mitchell, his face furious.

“Is that it? Have you already decided to take my brothers away from me? Because I’m too fucking young? Let me tell you …”

Mitchell held up his hands. “Whoa. You know that is not my decision, ultimately.”

“But they are going to make it based on your report.” Anders continued glaring at him. “I fucked up with Olaf. All right? I only did that because Josie said it would look bad to the youth welfare office if I forced Ty to look after Axl all the time.” He laughed bitterly. “Where were they when I was Ty’s age and I had to look after Ty and Axl when Mum and Mikkel were working, ey? Or mum just couldn’t bothered? Did you know I was the one who had to pick up Ty from hospital after he had a bike accident because mum was busy watching TV?”

Mitchell didn’t have an answer, so Anders went on.

“I like you. That’s why I wanted to ask you to make it look a bit better on the report? Like, Dawn is looking after them all the time too, Ty has a crush on her, and Axl adores her. She never even touched weed.” He kicked a wall, an effort he was still to drunk for and Mitchell had to catch him again.

“We’re better now than when Mum was around. It’s not like, you know, she ever did anything. And much better than when Dad was around. The only problem is the fucking house.”

“That is a big problem,” Mitchell pointed out. “But we shouldn’t talk about that now. You’re drunk. It’s late. Let me just get you home.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Anders sighed. “We’re just your job, right? And now you’re off so you don’t want to be bothered with our problems.”

Mitchell didn’t reply. Anders was walking a little too closely, and it did all kind of things to Mitchell’s pleasantly buzzed mind.

Anders Johnson was devastatingly handsome; behind his abrasiveness lurked a surprising amount of charm and love. And he liked Mitchell and thought he was handsome. In any other scenario, Mitchell would have made a move; not to seduce a drunk man, obviously, he wasn’t a total bastard, but certainly to set up a date.

But he couldn’t. He would be moved off this case and if there was one thing the family didn’t need right now, it was to be shuffled to another social worker.

Anders phone rang.

“Ty? What … Axl what??? Fuck. Shit. I … don’t move!”

He seemed to have forgotten Mitchell’s presence, as he strode on, but froze to the spot when Mitchell asked:

“Ty and Axl are alone, aren’t they? What happened?”

“Axl had an accident,” Anders said slowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always much appreciated. You can also find me on tumblr [Tumblr](chelidona.tumblr.com)


	2. Resolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reminder: I didn't specify the country this takes place in on purpose, but the way the system works is similar to Switzerland, because that's what I'm familiar with.

“Has Ty called an ambulance?” Mitchell asked as they were jogging to the Johnsons’ house.

“Ambulance?” Anders looked at him as if he had difficulty comprehending the word. Then he screwed his eyes shut for a second. “Shit. No. Fuck. I don’t think so!”

He took out his phone again, panting heavily as he tried talking and running at the same time.

“Ty, call an ambulance. Yes … No ... Fuck that. Just - do it, dickhead ... I’ll be there in 5 minutes, tops ... You tell them I am tending to Axl!”

 

He hardly seemed drunk now. If this shock could sober him so much, he probably hadn’t been quite as drunk as it seemed, more upset about Olaf’s arrest than truly intoxicated.

 

Anders only spoke Mitchell again when they were in front of the house and he was fumbling with his key.

“We never called an ambulance after an accident before,” he explained, and Mitchell knew he meant after his own encounters with his father, “and now Ty didn’t want to because he knows it might mean they’re going to be taken away.”

Mitchell took the key from Anders’ shaking hands and opened the lock himself.

 

They found Ty in the kitchen. The moment the boy saw Mitchell he jumped up from his position next to his prone little brother and started yelling.

“Get the fuck out … leave us the fuck alone,” were the only things Mitchell could make out. He ignored the teenager, while Anders shoved his brother back against the fridge and yelled back at him to shut up.

Mitchell was already kneeling down next to Axl, quickly assessing the situation.

A chair with a broken leg lay next to the boy, a package of biscuits and some broken glasses on the counter. The child had obviously tried to get to the biscuits Anders had placed out of reach and the chair had broken. A clean fall, nothing had been in his way.

 

A quick check revealed that Axl was unconscious, but breathing regularly, his heartbeat was okay, no obvious fractures. There was no external bleeding, apart from some shallow scratches on his hands.

Michell breathed a sigh of relief. Just as he was placing Axl in the recovery position, the boy groaned.

 

The small sound filtered through the mind of his brothers, and they stopped yelling, to look down at Axl and Mitchell. Mitchell kept one hand on Axl’s shoulder to soothe the boy, who was whimpering now. Whimpering was good. He was regaining consciousness.

“Is he going to be all right, do you think?”

Anders voice was shaking, but he seemed steady now.

Ty was sitting down on the floor, pulling his knees to his body and hiding his face. Mitchell heard him sobbing. But Mitchell and Anders were focused on Axl, who was slowly opening his eyes.

“Axl? Can you hear me?”

“Mmmm …”

He was responding. That wasn’t a bad sign.

“Axl? How many fingers?” Mitchell held three in front of the small face.

“Uuuuu … three???”

Anders knelt down next to Axl too, shaking slightly. He gently stroked Axl’s hair out of his face.

“Well done, buddy.”

“’m sorry,” Axl murmured. “Jus want’d bisc’ts.”

“I know. You’re daft, but it was an accident, all right? Ask someone next time, silly.”

Mitchell sighed. Not a stellar consolation but better than nothing. 

And Axl was just whimpering again, stretching out one hand. Anders took it without hesitation.

“You’ll be alright, just keep still, you got that, little brother?”

 

Now that they could do nothing but wait for the ambulance, Mitchell had time to think.

This would look bad. Very bad. What with all the abuse reported, would child protection believe this was just an accident? Even if they didn’t, this would look bad on Anders’ record. Especially if they found out Anders had been absent with only Ty to look after Axl. Mitchell understood that Anders had felt the urge to get some space after one of his pillars of support was knocked away, and, as Anders had said, accidents happened.

“Anders?”

Anders looked up from his ministrations to his brother.

“What? I know I fucked up, I know, all right?”

Tears were already forming in his eyes, his jaw was clenched so tight it must hurt. But he made his best attempt at glaring right now. 

Mitchell tried to make soothing motions with his hands.

“Let’s discuss that later, alright? I shouldn’t be here, you know that. It would look bad to my boss to know that I was here. So II’m going to leave now, before the ambulance arrives - call me when you know what’s up with Axl.”

This was wrong on so many levels, and would get him into so much trouble if anyone found out. Technically, he should report this. But Anders smiled at him and nodded and Mitchell couldn’t take his words back. He just told them to take pictures of the accident as well, to show the broken chair. Not that it would be of much use as proof, but it was something.

 

Then he quietly let himself out, walking the short distance to the next bus stop. It was still early enough to catch a bus home.

When he got home, Annie and George were still out. Good. Mitchell rubbed a tired hand over his face, scratching the stubble.

His mind wandered back to Axl’s drawing of Anders and their father, depicting Anders laying on the floor, bleeding. No ambulance had been called then; Anders had probably not even seen a doctor. Mitchell clenched his fist.

 

Why had nobody noticed that something was wrong back then? Why had nobody stopped it?

He knew the answer too well; he had taken enough classes at college, read about enough cases, to understand the mechanisms.

 

Still, nothing had prepared him for this real life responsibility; Anders and Ty hadn’t even thought about calling an ambulance because in their world, you didn’t. You didn’t expect outsiders to help, even if that was their job.

 

And he had a hand in deciding if Axl was better off with them or in a foster home. His mind wandered back to little Axl reaching for his big brother.

 

Nothing they did now could ever undo the damage done to Anders and Mikkel. Two boys who had somehow found the moral strength to protect their younger brothers against their father. They were lucky he was away so often, of course, but it must have been scary to never quite know when he would be back, to never know how long they would be safe.

 

They had never much talked about Elizabeth, the mother. She didn’t seem to have had much of a presence.

Ty and Axl had only said they missed Mikkel; the teachers reported that they’d been upset when their mother first disappeared, but they didn’t even mention her now. Had she looked after her sons after her husband had injured them?

 

Frustrated by his own lack of emotional barriers, Mitchell stomped into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. This, he reminded himself, while the tea was steeping, was not going to be his last case like this. There were hundreds of families in this town just like the Johnsons. Families who needed help, families for whom there was no easy solution. Families where the parents, or older siblings, were doing their best, but their best wasn’t necessarily good enough.

 

Still, Anders’ haunted blue eyes when he talked about Olaf’s arrest, Anders voice when he heard about Axl’s accident, the hope in Anders’ eyes when Mitchell said he was going to go to make the situation look better, he just couldn’t forget that.

 

Forty minutes, and three cups of tea, later, he got a call from Anders.

“They believe it is just a concussion,” he said instead of a greeting. “He threw up all over the paramedic and then again on the bed, and they want to keep him here overnight to observe him, but they say I should be able to take him home tomorrow.”

“That’s a relief.”

“Yes.” Anders paused. “Ty and I are going home now … I …. I’d like to stay with Axl, but I can’t leave Ty alone at home. He’s an idiot and feels guilty. We can’t both stay here, they won’t let us.”

“Axl is in good hands,” Mitchell assured him. “And I’m sure he knows.”

“I guess.”

Mitchell looked at his time planner.

“Can I come over to your house tomorrow?”

“You will, won’t you?”

“We need to talk about this and obviously, you can’t leave Axl alone right now. But you are completely within your rights to insist on scheduling an appointment at the office.”

He wasn’t technically supposed to make unnecessary house visits; it would cost too much time to visit everyone at home, but then again, most people wouldn’t want him to.

There was a pause while Anders thought about it.

“I guess it’s better if you come over tomorrow,” he conceded. “I already called my boss at the supermarket, I’ll be at home all day. Just drop by when it’s convenient.”

*

The next morning Mitchell was quite busy, but it was easy to fit in Anders as last appointment of the day. He reached out to the police about the arrest of Olaf Johnson, filled out all the paperwork required to get that information because it was related to a case and proceeded to fill out much more paperwork related to other cases. He also endured a visit by Herrick, who liked to surprise staff in their offices to check on them. And that was all before lunch.

 

He did correspondence after lunch, always a pleasure, particularly because they were forever out of envelopes. While he was hunting for envelopes in the building, he was waylaid by a colleague who somehow believed that Mitchell was responsible for fixing the coffee machine. How she got to that conclusion he didn’t know, but he found himself relieved when he could finally leave the office to make his housecall with the Johnsons’.

 

When he rang the doorbell at 4:30pm, Anders still had dark circles under his eyes.

This time, he had already prepared a pot of tea. There were no biscuits to go with them, not after Axl’s little adventure. He had the hospital report ready and Mitchell scanned through it. The concussion didn’t seem to be too bad; Axl should be right as rain in a few days. Of course Axl had also suffered some bruises, which would trouble him for some weeks, and he might have cracked a rib, the doctors couldn’t quite tell.

 

The hospital didn’t seem to think there was anything suspicious about it, but Mitchell still asked Anders to send him a copy of the hospital report and the picture of the kitchen, so he could file it.

“Did you hear from Olaf?” Mitchell asked. Anders huffed.

“He called me and told me he’s going to be released tomorrow. He’s found an idiot who’s going to advance him the money for bail. Women like him. But I know he can’t look after Axl now.”

“No, he can’t,” Mitchell replied, trying to convey that he understood the problem. “Even if he didn’t deal with the pot they found - if he had a stack large enough to make the police suspect it wasn’t for private use, he clearly consumes too much to be trusted with the responsibility for a child.”

“Yeah … thing is, Axl adores Olaf.”

“Has he been very stable presence in Axl’s life?”

Anders looked at him. “Stable?”

“I mean - has he been there consistently, could Axl depend on him?”

“You can depend on Olaf not to do any harm,” Anders replied, as if unsure if this was the correct answer. “And he always means well, and if he isn’t too stoned, he does pay attention, you know.”

“Has he visited regularly?”

“Olaf doesn’t do ‘regular’ …. he never disappears as long as dad, but if he tells you he’ll be back from a surfing trip on Sunday, you shouldn’t expect him before Tuesday. Or he could drop in Friday anyway, expecting to be fed dinner.”

Mitchell made a few notes about that before he asked about Axl.

“He’s fine - he’s asleep upstairs now. They told me at the hospital to wake him every few hours, to, you know, make sure he wakes up again, but he seems okay. He ate without throwing up and then he was just whining about his headache. I gave him some painkillers. Zeb’s mother is going to watch him tomorrow while I’m at university ….”

He trailed off when the door of the house opened and they heard some shuffling until Ty appeared in the doorway. He was still wearing his jacket, dripping with rain. The boy had not worn a hat, his hair was plastered to his face, his mascara was running down his cheeks. 

He looked at Mitchell, but seemed resigned to the social worker’s presence. Instead he turned his head in Anders’ direction, focusing on a spot behind his brother.

“How’s Axl?”

“Better. Go and dry yourself, you dickhead, I don’t want you to catch a cold. One sick brother is quite enough to deal with, cheers.”

Ty nodded and shuffled off. Anders breathed out in exasperation.

“My stupid brother feels guilty. Idiot. I know youth welfare are somehow going to think with me here, this wouldn’t have happened, but … tell me. In families that are not a shit show like ours, do people never let their children out of sight? That seems fucked up. Axl snuck into the fucking kitchen and the fucking chair broke.”

Mitchell could just nod; there was nothing he could really say about how the youth welfare office would see this incident. He wasn't experienced enough.

He heard Ty moving around upstairs, safely out of earshot.

“There is something more important we need to discuss.”

“Yeah?”

“Tell me honestly - this was not the first time you left Axl alone with Ty, did you?”

“You’re going to write about seeing me in the pub, right?”

“Answer my question, Anders.”

Anders bit his lip. Then he shook his head. “It wasn’t the first time. I never leave them alone for longer than a few hours, but … I can’t get Dawn or Olaf every time I need to stay longer at the shop, or you know, sometimes I go and see some people in the pub, or go to a party … I’m a student, for fuck’s sake. I need to … network … with the others, I just … I can’t just be the weirdo who never socialises with anyone. Not if I want to get into PR.”

“And you don’t want to miss out on all social activities.”

“That too.” Anders let out a deep sigh, rubbing his hands over his face. “My first impulse was to just walk away, like mum and dad. Why should I take over responsibility when they never did? I got a scholarship, I was so chuffed about that, I thought I’d finally escape this fucked up family, you know, rent a room in a shared flat, party every weekend, get my end away …. but then Mikkel got arrested and all went to shit.”

“And yet you decided to look after your brothers.”

“Yes. Still don’t know why exactly, it’s not like they overwhelm me with their gratitude or anything. Maybe they’d be better off in the foster care system, but they’re my brothers and …”

He seemed to realise now who he was talking to, and stopped, looking angry with himself.

“You evidently care for them,” Mitchell said after a pause. Anders grimaced.

“I guess I do.”

“So let’s forget I heard you doubt yourself and focus on the next bit.”

“Which is?”

“There will be a report from an external expert on your family - I already contacted the agency, they’re an organisation for child welfare. They’ll be in contact with you to schedule an appointment, where somebody will basically inspect your house and watch your interactions. I struck Olaf from the list of possible people to interview, but I’d very much like to talk to Dawn, if you could ask her to get in contact with me?”

“Sure.”

 

Mitchell left shortly after that. Anders Johnson and his mix of vulnerability and confidence, his dimples and his smile was going to be the death of him. It should not be this difficult to refrain from flirting with your clients.

It was not difficult with most other clients, actually. One of them, a rather attractive young woman, tried to flirt with him all the time, as if she thought it’d make her benefits go up. He had never even been tempted.

 

*

Dawn got in contact with him the very next day, very willing to support her friend. He got another call from Olaf, who was still pleasant even while he complained about being considered unfit to watch after his little cousins just because he indulged in some recreational drug use. It was not, Olaf explained patiently, as if he gave any of that to the kids. Mitchell didn’t bother to explain about delayed reaction time and other worries, the man was too sure in his own opinion.

 

He finished his report on Axl’s accident, writing down with only a tiny speck of guilt that Anders had been in the living room when the accident occurred.

 

A week later he received a surprising email. Mikkel Johnson was released from jail; it had been decided, after all, that there was no danger of him absconding. As he was now depending on benefits, having lost his job, he was assigned to Mitchell as a new client. This was three days before the scheduled inspection of the family; Mitchell knew that the relationship between Anders and Mikkel was difficult, he just hoped that this upheaval in their situation didn’t paint the family in a less favourable light than it would otherwise have.

 

His own, inexperienced, impression was that Anders, Ty and Axl had issues, but that their current situation was improving and he couldn’t imagine how throwing Axl into new surroundings was going to help. The child was attached to his brothers. And Ty, as a rebellious teenager … he could only foresee disaster if the boy was forced out of his family. But of course he knew that he wasn’t an expert.

 

Mitchell only saw Mikkel two days after that visit; he still hadn’t received the report on the family. On the other hand, he also hadn’t had any angry calls from Anders, so he assumed that the inspection hadn’t gone too badly.

Mikkel was just as short Anders, but stockier and he looked older than his 21 years. He had a stubble and a stubborn expression, and everything about his demeanour entering Mitchell’s office screamed “battle-ready.” He wasn’t the only client like that of course, Mitchell could easily overlook his attitude.

They had to cut to the chase quickly; Mikkel’s living situation. Of course he had moved back with his family after his release, he had no other place to call home. So at the moment, there was no rent to cover and his benefits reflected that. Mitchell had to ask him how soon he planned on finding a new place; there were less than three months left before the family would be evicted. Mikkel scowled.

“I’ve already told the lady who came two days ago; I plan to remain with my family. Nobody would give me a flat now, come on, man! I am jobless and awaiting trial … what landlord is going to risk that? And if justice actually prevails and I am found not guilty …. Anders needs the help.”

“Do you not think Anders capable of coping on his own?”

“Anders is not … ey, are you trying to trick me?”

“No, I am not,” Mitchell protested, even though that had been exactly what he had been doing. He quickly went back to the usual routine, making Mikkel sign a few more forms, and tell him to look for jobs even though it was pretty hopeless.

*

To Mitchell’s secret relief, the expert’s report was predominantly positive. She remarked that the overall tone in the household was negative, criticising Anders tendency to call his younger brothers names. But she also wrote that while Ty was difficult at school and constantly at odds with his brother, he also showed respect and seemed to listen to him as well as an average teenager listened to a parental figure. Which was not much.

 

More in Ty and Anders’ favour was that despite their cousin’s documented use and possible selling of marihuana, Ty had never been caught smoking weed. She did note that Anders let Ty hang out with his mates and nobody was quite sure if they drank alcohol or not. Again, this was unfortunate but not unusual.

 

Axl seemed to be reasonably cheerful, although she added as caveat that he was still recovering from his accident so was not his normal self. Axl needed clearer rules, she also noted. Anders appeared lackadaisical in his approach to bedtime, table manners and tidying, the boy wasn’t aware of any rules regarding such matters. But Anders made sure now that Axl always did his homework.

 

In her opinion, it was not an ideal situation to have Mikkel there, as he and Anders were clearly hostile towards each other. But she also noted that it was difficult to say how the situation would develop, considering that Mikkel had just returned from jail. The younger brothers, she went on write, clearly trusted both of their older brothers to take care of them. They were also not afraid of them.

 

After the expert had handed in her report and Mitchell had interviewed Dawn, there was not much he had to do in relation to the Johnson family, apart from looking for emergency housing. In his report, of which he also sent a copy to the Johnsons, he stated that he had a positive impression of Anders’ willingness to look after his brothers. He noted that despite the documented problems in the family, Mikkel’s assault charge was the first time any of the brothers had run into problems with the police. In addition, Ty was already 15 and his opinion regarding his future should carry some weight.

 

Then it was Christmas, and Mitchell mostly forgot about work while he celebrated with his family. Almost. But the spark in Anders’ blue eyes, the roguish dimples and his smiles intruded upon his dreams and into his thoughts frequently.

***

The emergency flat Mitchell had found for them was dilapidated, in a house that had last seen maintenance a decade ago. The flat had only two rooms and from what he had seen before the Johnsons moved in, the kitchen was in bad shape. The bathroom was shared with two neighbours and far from clean. But all efforts to find another solution were in vain.

The youth welfare office only came to a decision in early March after the family had already moved to emergency housing. As expected, they had concluded that it was in the children’s best interest to remain with their brother.

 

However, they did not trust Anders’ with full custody, and appointed Mitchell as legal guardian on a permanent basis. Custody was officially stripped from Johan and Elizabeth, should they ever show up again. They also stipulated that neither Olaf nor Mikkel were to be left alone with Ty or Axl. 

 

Mitchell made one visit there to see how well they adapted to the situation.

The answer was: not well at all. Axl and Ty as well as Anders and Mikkel had to share rooms, and that clearly wasn’t ideal. 

The only common room for the family was the kitchen, which was also overflowing with boxes full of stuff they hadn’t managed to throw away but couldn’t find space for. The TV was placed on top of one of those boxes. 

When Mitchell arrived Mikkel was in the kitchen making sandwiches, while Axl watched some cartoons, his homework ignored in front of him. He informed Mitchell that he was kicked out of his room, because Ty wanted to play his stupid games. Mikkel told him he could find Anders in their room.

 

And there he was, sitting at an old desk, busy reading a text book. He scowled when he looked up at Mitchell.

“You know, studying would be so much easier at the library.”

“I imagine.”

“But I am not allowed to leave the kids with Mikkel right? And Mikkel's so bloody embarrassed by that, he won’t let me tell Dawn, and how could I explain to her why she needs to hang out in this shithole with Mike while I’m not there?”

Mitchell could only nod; there wasn’t much he could do to improve the situation.

*

The youth welfare office was not happy about the living situation either, they required Mitchell to keep looking in his capacity as a guardian. House hunting had never been Mitchell’s favourite activity.

 

Mikkel’s trial was set a few days after Mitchell’s visit; he was found not guilty, the judge considered the evidence as not sufficient. Rob had woken up in the meantime and while he could not remember the attack, he confirmed that there was absolutely not tension between him and Mikkel and was outraged that anyone would accuse Mikkel. The discussion a witness had seen earlier in the evening had just been Mikkel trying to tell Rob to gamble less. It seemed inconceivable that Mikkel would put Rob in the hospital over that.

 

Mitchell got an email from Mikkel asking about the possibility of him filing for joint custody with Anders. Before he could answer, he received another email from Mikkel, telling him to forget about that for the moment.

 

A week later he went with Anders to look for a new flat; it was a council flat and the number of interested prospective tenants was staggering.

Anders waited for him on the pavement. There were already people milling around, queuing to see the flat, even though it was still 15 minutes to the official viewing time.

“Good to see you,” Mitchell smiled, when he shook Anders’ hand.

“Yeah.” Anders didn’t look thrilled. “Should we get it over with?”

“I like your enthusiasm.”

Anders shrugged as they slowly followed the queue up the stairs. “What’s the point in getting my hopes up. I’m still just a student, saddled with two younger brothers and an older brother who's jobless.”

“Let’s just see if it’s suitable,” Mitchell suggested and added, because it was his last appointment for the day, “And then we can grab a coffee maybe?”

There was a look of relief on Anders face, when he nodded.

 

The flat itself was good; it was immediately visible that not all neighbours were exactly tidy and possibly noisy, but Mitchell had looked at the local crime rate, which was low, and it was close to Axl’s school.

They took an application form and went to a coffee-shop around the corner. Before they did anything else, Mitchell helped him fill out the application and put himself in as a reference.

“Where are the children now?”

“NOT alone with Mikkel,” Anders sighed. “Axl is at Zeb’s house, he can actually stay the night, and Ty's hanging around somewhere with a friend. He’s 15, I studied all the material, I'm not only allowed to give him freedom to do so, I’m required to. For his development and all that.”

He grimaced. “It feels weird, you know.”

“What does?”

“That I am legally allowed to tell him what to do, I guess? When I was 15 I pretty much did what I wanted - mum was only ever there physically, she never cared what I was up to, and dad … he either wasn’t there or you know …”

“I know.”

“Mikkel sometimes tried to shout at me, but he was generally too busy with his own stuff, you know, he was an apprentice? And he made sure Axl and Ty were okay, and he saw to it that mum actually went to work and all that. I helped with that too. I can’t say I’m not a bit bitter.”

As if to counteract his words, Anders put more sugar in his coffee and stirred it. “Me - and Mikkel - were on our own, nobody cared about our development or shit like that. Or our safety, we were alone with dad all the time. Mum made sure we had enough to eat and she mostly cleaned and did the laundry. When we were younger and could still be bothered, she showed us how to do the laundry and stuff, so later, when she didn’t, we could do it if necessary. And now … you sweep in, and there are all these rules and I am to mollycoddle Ty.”

Then he suddenly laughed, and it seemed to transform not only his face but also his body. “I sound like such a grumpy old man. Today’s youth is too spoilt, back in my day we learned to be men and all that crap.”

“A bit,” Mitchell conceded. “It isn’t fair that nobody intervened when you were kids; you would have deserved a better childhood too. Life isn’t fair though.”

“Surprisingly cynical.” Anders complimented him. “I always pegged you as an idealist.”

“I’m a cynical idealist.” Mitchell shrugged. “I studied social work out of idealism, but you become a cynic before you even graduate, to be honest.”

“And now he’s a philosopher.” Anders laughed again.

“Maybe.” Mitchell found himself smiling. “Why are you studying public relations?”

Anders smirked. “I want to get into PR … there’s money in it, and I’m good at convincing people.”

He leaned back into his chair. “I convinced you and youth welfare to give me custody, right? At 19, with no job and despite Olaf and Mike. That’s good, ey?”

“Not bad, certainly.” Mitchell took a bite out of his cake. “Though much of it was Ty, actually.”

“Ty? What did he do apart from whining and whinging?”

“Say that he wanted to stay with you.”

“True.” Anders looked thoughtful for a moment, then he grinned again. “Anyway, I figure I didn’t do too bad, so PR sounds good. I’m good at flirting too, you know.”

He winked and Mitchell was so very, very ready to believe that. He counted himself lucky that Anders hadn’t tried to flirt with him. He would have struggled so hard with resisting.

Now, he just smiled and winked right back.

“You’re all set then.”

“Well, what’s the difference really? Flirting is about making people feel good about themselves and want me, right? PR is making them feel good and want the product.”

“True.”

“Did Mikkel talk to you about joint custody?”

Trust Anders to suddenly turn a conversation around. Mitchell carefully guarded his expression.

“Why do you ask?”

“He told me he’s going to file for custody too, but then he said he changed his mind.”

“So why are you telling me?”

Anders shrugged. “I just don’t want to start this whole process again, I guess. Not until everything settled down.”

“I understand that.”

“But could we make youth welfare take away their stupid condition that I can’t leave the kids with Mikkel? He’s been cleared.”

“I’ll see into it.”

“Thank you, you’re the best.” Anders smiled again. “You really are. Sorry about talking business.”

“It’s fine,” Mitchell assured him. “It’s your personal life, after all.”

“But you need professional distance. I get that, really.”

“Relax. Having a coffee was my idea, all right?”

“All right.” Anders grinned. “But … if you don’t mind … you could tell me something about you in return? I know nothing about you, other than that you’re good at your job and gorgeous.”

Mitchell was hoping desperately he didn’t look as flustered as he felt.

“Well, there’s not much. I’m living with my two best friends, George and Annie. We met shortly after I moved here and I couldn’t wish for better mates; they’re the best to just watch TV with and eat way too much pizza.”

“That sounds almost nauseatingly sweet.”

“It’s not really.” Mitchell laughed. “Yesterday they harassed me for not doing the dishes and they’re always after me to wash my hair. Annie makes more tea than we can drink, George is driving me crazy with his obsessing over cleaning products.”

The conversation continued in much the same style. It was friendly, but there was this undercurrent. Anders didn’t attempt to flirt, but he had said that Mitchell was gorgeous, and Mitchell was desperate to assure Anders that Anders was so much better looking, practically a young god, but he couldn’t.

He should never have asked Anders for coffee in the first place. Every time he saw Anders, it became harder not to cross the line. From now on he needed to be strictly professional and make sure he didn’t see Anders more than necessary.

***

The Johnsons didn’t get that flat. But two months later, they were lucky and got one nearly as good, even though it meant they had to enrol Axl in a different school. Still, Anders seemed very relieved.

 

Mitchell didn’t make any visit, it seemed unnecessary, but he saw Anders at teacher-parent (or guardian) conferences. Ty and Axl both did better at school; they would probably never be entirely unproblematic kids, but Ty was far from a juvenile delinquent and Mitchell felt that Axl’s new teacher was really overly dramatic. Axl was taller than anyone else in his class and she seemed to be constantly afraid that he scared or hurt the smaller kids. But Mitchell had gotten into way more fights at Axl’s age and he was a fairly law-abiding citizen.

 

Youth Welfare officially allowed Mikkel to look after the children in Anders’ absence after Mitchell helped Mikkel to appeal. In early August, 9 months after Mitchell had first taken the Johnsons’ case, Mikkel finally found a new job. He was jubilant when he came to Mitchell’s office one last time. Mitchell was happy for every client who was able to secure a job, to get out of their dependence on benefits, but he had to admit to himself that he was particularly glad for the Johnsons. 

During their talk, Mikkel also announced that he would file for joint custody now.

Mitchell asked if he was aware that this would mean that he was also financially responsible and that Ty and Axl would lose some benefits. He was. He also claimed that he had talked about that with Anders and that Anders agreed.

A quick phone call later, Anders confirmed what Mikkel had said; in Anders words “It’s not like we’re not fighting about the right way to do things now, and I know he’s only got their best interests in mind. Even if he’s a wanker.”

 

This time the decision came much more quickly. A year after Mitchell had become the legal guardian of Ty and Axl Johnson, this responsibility was taken away from him again. Mikkel Johnson was transformed from delinquent to a model citizen in the eyes of youth welfare. Mitchell couldn’t claim that he wasn’t a bit sad that his interactions with Anders were ended now; he would only deal with Mikkel now concerning Mikkel’s paycheck and calculating how much benefits Ty and Axl were still entitled to.

 

No more Anders. He should be relieved; his attraction to Anders had made dealing with the case much harder.

*

So he was very surprised when, at the beginning of December, he received a call from Anders.

“Anders? What’s wrong?”

Anders laughed. “Nothing’s wrong. Well, nothing more than usual, anyway. The stick in Mikkel’s arse is growing, I tell you. I was just wondering …. would you like to grab some mulled wine at the Christmas market some day? I still need to thank you for your help.”

Mitchell should have said that there was nothing to thank him for, he had done his job. But this was Anders, so of course he agreed to see him the next week.

It wasn’t too cold, so he could go with his usual fingerless gloves, but he was wrapped in a thick coat. When he found Anders, the blond’s ears were already tinged pink from the cold. It looked so endearing that Mitchell didn’t tell him he should wear a hat. Anders’ neck was encased in a thick scarf though. He smiled when he saw Mitchell.

They strolled through the Christmas market, in no hurry to get to the mulled wine. Anders appreciated all the handicraft Mitchell didn’t have a taste for. Mitchell didn’t care if he drank his tea from a paper cup or fine china, but Anders admired beautiful handcrafted mugs, figurines made from olive wood, and intricate candles, easily chatting about looking forward to making enough money to actually afford this stuff. 

He ended up buying a toy for Axl though, instead of something for himself. Mitchell got them some churros they snacked on while they scouted for the most appealing mulled wine stall. On the way they mocked tacky Christmas decorations together.

 

They finally decided on a stall at the edge of the market, allowing them to stand apart from the big crowds. They were enjoying their wine in silence until Anders remarked casually:

“I fucked someone last week.”

Mitchell spat the wine in his mouth back into his cup as he coughed in surprise. Anders patted his back helpfully, while he continued.

“And it was really good, just, I noticed, that I was actually imagining you.”

“Right.” Mitchell was still working on re-establishing his equilibrium.

“So I decided to call you.” The angelic smile on Anders’ face was completely out of place.

“Right.” Mitchell could feel his face heating up and it had nothing to do with the wine he was drinking. “That’s … nice?”

“Just so you know why I wanted to see you.” Maybe there was a hint of insecurity about Anders now. “It’s got nothing to do with Axl, Ty or any other aspect of our fucked up family.”

“That’s good to know.”

“And considering that you’re actually here, I’m hoping that you see me as a bit more than a former case of a dysfunctional shit-show of family. You don’t seem the type to regularly go on dates with former clients.”

Mitchell had to laugh at that. “You’re the only one I ever even grabbed a coffee with.”

“I’m flattered.”

Anders’ hand still hadn’t left Mitchell’s back.

“You should be,” Mitchell winked at him, feeling a sense of relief coursing through his veins. He could flirt right back now. Anders was not a client anymore. And just as forward as Mitchell liked them.

He tossed his empty paper cup in the bin. “And, you know, you showed me your place. Wanna see mine?”

The dimples deepened above Anders’ scarf.

“Love to.”

***

For Christmas Mitchell got Anders one of the wooden figurines he had admired at the Christmas market and a bottle of fine vodka. Anders gave him the best blowjob of his life and a new pair of fingerless gloves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you weren't disappointed by the easy way this resolved itself ... I had contemplated to make this more angsty and darker, but then I looked at my pile of wips and just couldn't face adding yet another.  
> Also, I love Anders and Mitchell and want to see them happy.  
> (And because I am too obsessed with details: Mikkel would not, technically, in the system I described, come to Mitchell for benefits, it's a bit more complicated, but this worked better for the sake of my story.)


End file.
